


No One Was Saved

by Bright_Elen



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Cassian Andor-centric, Character Study, Dissociation, Espionage fucks you up, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 16:02:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15416547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bright_Elen/pseuds/Bright_Elen
Summary: Cassian Andor didn't own any jackets.





	No One Was Saved

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Artemis1000](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis1000/gifts).



> Written for [Cassian Appreciation Week](https://thefulcrumcaptain.tumblr.com/post/174464773710/its-that-time-of-year-again-to-celebrate-rogue) on Tumblr for the prompt "Mask."
> 
> Unbetaed, we die like men.
> 
> Hope you like it, Artemis!

Cassian Andor didn’t own any jackets. Everything he wore belonged to the Alliance.

 _“It’s best to think of your aliases as entirely different people,”_ Draven had said years before. _“It helps you distance yourself, keep focused on the mission, and stay in character so you aren’t compromised.”_

Joreth Sward owned Imperial uniform jackets (three standard, one dress). Fulcrum never let himself be seen and didn’t need his own clothes. The only one who owned a civilian jacket was Willix.

He’d liked it. The leather was tough but flexible, worth something against the cold, the right color to blend into a crowd or sneak through darkness. It had softened a few punches and one fall, helped him charm an asset out of intelligence, and fooled an assailant into thinking they’d stabbed him when they’d only cut the leather.

He’d liked Willix, too. Willix was friendly. Didn’t worry too much. The sort of guy who could relax in a cantina and have fun playing cards, maybe with the occasional scuffle if someone insulted a family member. Someone who could be happy with a roof over his head and good people to share it with.

That wasn’t Cassian. Could never be Cassian. But he’d put just enough of himself into Willix to make him believable. _“That being said, you should favor traits you can easily perform. That means some of them will be yours.”_

Of course, after so many years as a spy, who could say exactly where the aliases stopped and Cassian began? There’s only so much lying you can do before the truth becomes meaningless.

He’d liked the jacket. He’d liked Willix. He didn’t know anymore how much was for the things they shared and how much was for the things about himself that Cassian wished were different. Either way, the mask had slipped — or had had too much of Cassian in it from the beginning — and he’d wound up compromised.

Masks keep you hidden. Some masks keep things out: Poison gas. Smoke. The horror of murdering a contact you couldn’t save.

It was the last time he wore that jacket.

**Author's Note:**

> Come demand tissues and blankies from me here: [bright-elen](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bright-elen).


End file.
